


Rage Quit Surgeon Simulator- Not So Simulated

by HuggerMuggered



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuggerMuggered/pseuds/HuggerMuggered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is having some pretty bad stomach pain, but he never expected it to be this serious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rage Quit Surgeon Simulator- Not So Simulated

It starts out as a simple stomach ache.

 

Michael’s pretty sure that’s what it is, anyway. Some sort of dulled pain that presents itself first when he throws his head back and laughs at Gavin’s spectacular fuck up in GTA around three in the afternoon and then again later on that day when he bends down to pick up Jack’s backpack for him. They’re all headed home and they’re making age jokes again because there’s nothing better to giggle at- but Michael small ‘oof’ as the pain sparks in his abdomen backfires the age jokes onto him instead.

 

“Maybe I should carry  _your_  backpack.” Jack says, reaching out and tugging his bag out of Michael’s hands. Geoff is laughing behind them both. “Showing your age finally?”

 

“We did always say he’d transition to Gent first.” Ray says, brushing past all of them to rocket out of the office. “Watch out grampas.”

 

He laughs about it, because it’s funny.

 

“I’m gonna grow a beard next, just watch.” Michael says, brushing it off as a one-off occurrence. He’s had stomach aches before- he’s not gonna be a baby about it. He goes home and enjoys a night with his boys- Dinner and lazy television surfing on and around the couches; slow kisses and even slower cuddling.

 

In bed that night, watching the clock blink 12:00 AM over Ryan’s sleeping face and letting the red blur in his vision- He can’t help but notice that the dull pain has instead become constant. That’s new- but maybe he’s got a stomach bug because Gavin shrugged it off onto him again. The pleb is always thinking away sickness and it inadvertently always ends up being one of his boyfriends sick next.

 

Michael can survive that- he survived allergy season in Texas with all the Cedar he could possibly breath- Red noses, snot, and trying not to die with Ryan by his side wheezing in harmony as Geoff, Gavin, and Jack manned three separate humidifiers and Ray made jokes about getting an old priest and a young priest from the end of the bed.

 

But in the morning it’s not just pain anymore.

 

“Bacon?” Geoff asks, and Michael has to shake his head and pull away from the table to keep his stomach from rolling any harder. He’s sure two days ago the smell of bacon wasn’t revolting- In fact he’d be chowing down just as hard as Jack if it weren’t for the mixture of pain and nausea in his gut. It almost feels grossly exaggerated as he goes instead for a water bottle and some Advil, pulling the supplies from the cupboard while everyone else eats breakfast.

 

“Getting sick  _again_?” Ray asks from the table, passing the pan of eggs over to Ryan, who looks worried.

 

“What is it this time?” Ryan asks, and that’s enough for Michael to pop three pills instead of the recommended two— he’ll keep the pain at bay long enough to keep this conversation from happening again.

 

“It’s nothing, just my stomach. I’ll get over it.” Michael says.

 

“Advil is for your  _head_.” Gavin supplies. “Wotsit gonna do for your belly?”

 

“It’s gonna keep me from getting sick all over your lap in the car.” Michael replies, only to watch Gavin squawk and squirm as Ray makes an exaggerated vomiting noise across the table at him. The laughter pushes the attention away from him, and he’s glad for it. If everyone’s going to get worried about him taking Advil he’s just not going to talk about this at all.

 

Of course- That only lasts until later on that night.

 

Michael makes it through work no problem, he slides through the day on water bottles and advil- but when he gets home the discomfort hits him again. Geoff and Gavin are going out for bevs and have invited him along, but he declines to stay home and play pokemon with Ray. They battle it out on the bed upstairs, Michael pulling the old heating pad out of the closet first and setting it on a steady medium on his stomach, hoping to relax his clenched muscles.

 

He thinks maybe he pulled something, and he’s really turning into a Gent after all.

 

Ryan invades the bedroom around six-thirty and lays on the end of the bed to catch some semblance of sleep while Jack cooks something in the kitchen for dinner. It’s almost an appetizing smell, and Michael’s pretty sure the pain in his abdomen is easing— especially after he kicks Ray’s ass three times in a row before heading to the bathroom for a break.

 

He doesn’t make it inside.

 

Michael doubles over in the bathroom doorway, holding in a scream, around Seven that night. He’d been fine all day thanks to the pain killers, but this pain seemed unstoppable. So unstoppable that he doesn’t notice Ryan up out of the bed and kneeling next to him until the Gent is halfway through a sentence.

 

“-chael hey, no hey look at me.” Ryan was saying, hands on Michael’s shoulders.

 

Michael gives a pant in response, flicking his eyes over to look at Ryan. The pain is persistent but he’s getting used to it.

 

“Are you okay?” Ryan asks.  And what a dumb fucking question  _that_  is.

 

“Yeah I’m  _fucking_  fantastic.” Michael growls, hands over the middle of his stomach, pressing down as if he can hold the pain back. “I’m just peachy Rye-bread, I’m just dying a  _little_  bit.”

 

Ryan doesn’t seem to take the vinegar to heart at least. “Where’s the pain?”

 

“In the middle, everywhere? Jesus Ryan-  _OW_.” Michael snaps and pulls back a little as Ryan moves a hand to press down where Michael’s hands were pressed. He feels there a moment and then raises an eyebrow.

 

“You’re all sorts of swollen.” Ryan says, pressing again and ignoring Michael’s hissing. “How’s your right side?”

 

“It’s the same as all my other sides- It fucking hurts when you touch it.” Michael says, pulling away again. “It’s just a cramp, don’t worry about it.”

 

Ray looks a little dubious on the bed, DS held in one hand and the other hanging on the footboard. “You sort of collapsed in the bathroom Michael.”

 

“I’m fine.” Michael says, standing up straight again. Ryan is still kneeling next to him. “Really- look, I’m standing up. Pain’s going away.”

 

He puts his hands out to the side and Ryan hums an answer, standing to plant a kiss on the corner of Michael’s mouth. He returns it quickly, rolling his eyes.

 

“Will you go to the doctor tomorrow at least?” Ryan asks, pulling his hands off of Michael finally.

 

“Yeah, fine. Now Ray, lets get back to business.”

 

Michael is not expecting to head to the Doctor’s office with Jack in tow the next day and receive not only blood tests, but also an X-Ray and a CAT scan. It’s the CAT scan that finally puts the whole thing into perspective- Jack looking worried as the doctor says that there’s something ‘Cooking’ around Michael’s appendix and he should probably head to the emergency room as quickly as possible.

 

All Michael can do is grumble and pull at the bridge of his nose as Jack mutters into his cellphone to either Geoff or Ryan. He’s curled up in the passenger seat as Jack rushes them through afternoon traffic- and the fax from his doctor’s office must have preceded their arrival; because there’s two nurses waiting for him when he gets there and he’s whisked away to a room within five minutes.

 

More tests- the arrival of one very worried Geoff with a very worried phone call from everyone else who’s still at the office trying to get work done, and then the Surgeon is in and he’s being told he’ll probably have his appendix taken out in the next four hours.

 

_Neat_. At least he’s not dead.

 

But his surgeon walks in around five thirty, his Resident in training trailing behind him with a knowing look at the crowd of five people around Michael’s bed as her Trainer tells Michael that the operation is off and his surgery can wait about five weeks, and in the mean time he’ll be on some serious antibiotics.

 

“Yeah, okay- But what if this thing goes boom?” Michael asks, still trying to be funny about the whole thing. Gavin laughs at the joke, at least. “I’d rather not keel over at home and freak out the neighbors.”

 

“Might make for a good Rage Quit.” Ray mutters, immediately shushed by Jack.

 

“To be honest- that won’t be a problem. It already  _has_  burst.” The surgeon says, and the Resident notes something on her clipboard. There’s a stunned silence from his boyfriends, and Michael blinks rapidly to dispel his confusion.

 

“It- what?” Michael asks, still trying to wrap his head around it. “Shouldn’t I be  _dead_  then?”

 

The surgeon smiles. “Not everyone dies because their appendix bursts. Some people have a slow leak of infection once it bursts. You’re one of the lucky ones. A couple weeks of antibiotics and then we’ll remove your appendix. The inflammation is too hot for us to go in right now without risking worse for you.”

 

Michael nods, trying to ignore the looks of fright and stunned disbelief on his boyfriends faces. He could have died.

 

Well, that’s new.

 

“Right- Can I go home then?” Michael asks.

 

“Sure, we’ll have you out of here with a prescription within the hour. Limited movement- no super strenuous activity, plenty of rest— but you’re fine to go to work otherwise. I’m sure your friends will keep you going.”

 

Michael has to hold back a laugh as the surgeon turns out of the room with his resident trailing behind him, waving a hand with a glaringly familiar Achievement Hunter slap band on her wrist. “Take care of him.” She supplies happily, and then they’re gone.

 

Michael turns to his boyfriends and tries not to smirk. “So, uh, near death experiences right? Great huh?”

 

None of them look very amused.

 

“You kept this quiet and you could have  _died_.” Geoff says, narrowing his eyes.

 

“I didn’t though.” Michael responds.

 

“But you could have.” Ryan reiterates.

 

“But I didn’t. Mind over matter.” Michael says, smiling. He swings his legs out of the hospital bed and groans at an onslaught of pain from his abdomen, not able to ignore three sets of arms as they reach out to catch him- just in case.

 

He’s pretty sure the constant death watch and the overzealous helping are going to get annoying pretty fast; but he’s grateful for them none the less.

 

After all, how else are they going to make an RT Life out of this? No one had brought a camera today, but they’ve got five weeks to make it count.


End file.
